


The Sound of your Voice

by Alika



Series: The Senses of Our Souls [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alika/pseuds/Alika
Summary: Sometimes, even when you're meant to be, the road to happiness can be a long and prickly path.(a soulmate AU in which soulmates see/hear/speak/touch/taste for the first time when they meet)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> Since I learnt Julian would be moving to Paris I could not stop imagining this story until I finally gave in and wrote it but it took me quite a moment to eventually find the courage to post it here. I hope you will like it, because I truly enjoy writing it, and feel free to give me some feedback :)  
> I'd like to thank Blue_Night for doing the beta of this story, she's really nice and do help me a lot, go check out her stories, she's an awesome writer!
> 
> A few tips to understand everything: whenever the dialogue will be in italic it means that the person speaking is using signs or writing, while when it's in bold letters AND in italic it means that the deaf character is lip-reading, and finally as it will occur soon, when the dialogue is simply in bold letter then it's a normal spoken dialogue. (I hope it's clear and that you won't get confused)
> 
> Much of love,  
> Alika

         Andrea was deaf.

         He was deaf and had accepted it for a rather long time now. He knew it was temporary, that the day he would meet his soul mate, the day his soul mate would finally talk to him for the first time, he would be able to hear for the first time.

         He had accepted his disability, knowing that everyone had one before they met their soul mate. Some people were blind, others mute, anomic, had ageusia or were even in rare case were ‘anaesthetised’ in the real sense of the word – _which meant that they lacked the sense of touch_.

         For the blind ones, the first thing they saw was their soul mate, for the mute ones it was the same as it was for the deaf ones: their soul mate would have to talk to them for the first time, and the anaesthetised ones needed to be touched by their soul mate for the first time. For the two remaining disabilities it simply depended on the person, some would need to smell their soul mate, others to touch, hear or see them.

         His younger sister, for instance, was mute while his older sister had been blind until she was fifteen. She had been young, way younger than the average of twenty, and her soul mate, Adrien, had been barely older, being sixteen when they found each other.        

         With time, Andrea had learnt to lip-read and nowadays it was not as much an issue as it had been when he was a kid. He remembered how frustrated he was about not being able to hear what was said around him. He could see their mouths moving, talking, laughing, while he was standing there, unable to know what happened, unable to hear what the other kids were saying in the schoolyard. He used to take shelter in football; it helped him to control all of his anger toward the entire soul mate thing and usually calmed him down.

         The numerous hours spent on the football pitch as a kid were now beneficial for him. Andrea was seventeen – _nearly eighteen, as he was born on the second of February_ \- and playing in the youth team of one of the best clubs in his country, the club Paris Saint-Germain. If things stayed as they were, in less than two years he might be able to play professionally, and this thought always brought a smile on his face. He was proud of himself, of what he had achieved up until now. Few people succeeded to get where he was, and he thanked fate or God if he existed every day to have permitted him to be where he was now.

         Lifting his eyes from the empty plate in front of him, he smiled at his mother sitting opposite him. To him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it certainly had a lot to do with how much she had done for him and for his sisters.

         Most people’s disabilities were anosmia or ageusia, it surely was restrictive but at least they were able to live their life more or less unaffected, but Andrea and his sisters, they all had pulled the wrong cards at birth being diagnosed with the three most constricting ones – _anaesthesia being so rare that it did not really count_. Their mother had done everything in her power to help them, even putting her own life in between brackets for a few years to take care of them, and Andrea would never be able to thank her enough for that. She was the one who had helped him learning to lip-read, she had been the one rooting for him when he had been down, she had been the one taking him to each of his matches; she was simply the woman of his life. Andrea was sure of that, no one else could love him as much as his mother did, and he could never love anybody as much as he loved his mother.

         The only thing he hated about being in the youth team of the PSG was that now he did not see his mother as often as before. His family was living in a provincial town and therefore he had to live in the club boarding school, only going back during the holidays.

         So here he was now, sitting at the table in the middle of the living room, having Christmas lunch with his entire family, even the ones from Italy and from Russia were here to celebrate with them. The last time he had seen his maternal grandparents had been a bit more than six months ago, during his holidays near Napoli, and a year before that he had last seen his paternal grandparents, at Christmas in Russia.

         Marzia was sitting right beside him, radiating happiness, Adrien sitting next to her. They were smiling at each other, and from where he was sitting, Andrea could see his brother-in-law caress his sister's swollen stomach. The baby was due in a couple months now, and despite Marzia still being a student and Adrien being away more often than not because of his job in the army, they both seemed to be more than happy about the idea of having a child together. If he had to be honest, Andrea was thrilled to become an uncle as well. Sure, he wouldn't see the child a lot because of football, but his sister lived in Paris too, so he could already picture himself teaching them a few things, how to play football being one of them for instance.

         Turning his gaze away, his eyes fell on his younger sister sitting in the far corner of the table, laughing at something his paternal grandfather must have told her, and despite being deaf he knew her laugh was soundless. Andrea did not know what was the worst: being able to hear the other one but not being able to make a sound and answer them, or not hearing the others but being able to speak – _well anatomically at least, but as deaf people did not hear, they could not hear their own voice and were not able to pronounce words correctly_. He could not tell, on one side being deaf seemed to be the harsher fate as they could not hear nor speak, but being able to hear and not being to answer certainly must be as frustrating if not more.

         His mother grabbed his hand to draw his attention and he quickly turned his eyes back to her. Slowly, she said “ ** _Are you having a good time?”_** for him to lip-read her words and he nodded, once more smiling at her, squeezing her hand in the process.

         From there, the lunch went smoothly, everyone enjoying the meal his mother, grandmother and his aunt had prepared. This year they had decided to have a traditional Italian Christmas meal, and in Andrea’s opinion, it definitely was delicious. Once the dessert eaten – _by four p.m_.-, all the children left the table to go play upstairs, and the young football player followed them when Lyuba, his youngest cousin, grabbed his hand, asking him soundlessly to come and play with her. She was deaf too, and even if French sign language was a bit different from the Russian one, they could communicate more or less easily.

         She led him toward the dolls she had gotten for Christmas and he smiled when he saw her choose the one he had offered her. She was just like her and that was why he had immediately bought her when he had seen her. Her curly red hair was just the same as the wild one on his cousin’s head. It was as unruly and in the exact same tone of bright orange.

         ‘ _Yours is called Yulyia’_ she signed after handing him the brown haired one. ‘ _Mine is Anna,’_ she added looking at him with her big brown eyes.

         And just like that he played with her for a long time, not even noticing time passing by. Surely for other young men of his age, it would have been the most boring thing ever, but he loved spending time with his cousin. She was soothing him, making him forget about all the things that bothered him. Nothing was as simple as to play with a child to forget every trouble. Lyuba was only seven, but Andrea knew that her soul-mate would be the luckiest person on earth to be bonded with someone as kind-hearted as she was.

         After at least two hours, she eventually dropped her doll and went up to grab the colouring books she had taken with her from Russia, before turning her gaze on him, _‘Can we colour?’_

_‘Of course, Lubouchka,”_ he smiled, using her nickname, grabbing the colouring book she was handing him before settling down on the floor with her. He opened it to a random page and grabbed the light blue felt-tip pen.

         _‘No, no, you have to take the purple one!’_ she stopped him by grabbing the felt-tip pen away from his hand. _‘The dress must be purple! Not blue!’_ she said seriously, only resulting in Andrea smiling and nodding at her. Nothing else really happened after the blue-purple felt-tip pen ‘incident’, they both coloured in silence, both concentrating on what they were doing, and by the time Andrea had finished his drawing, Lyuba was barely in the middle of it as she had chosen a more detailed one. He eventually grabbed another felt-tip pen and helped her finish her colouring, and she smiled when she noticed it.

 

         Saying goodbye definitely was one of the things Andrea hated the most. It was the first of January and most of his family was leaving within the following days, but he was the first one. Lyuba had been reluctant to let go of his neck at the train station and at some point he had had to pick her up to not hurt his back from being bent for so long. His mother had nearly cried in his arms when he had kissed her cheek, but she had eventually let go, murmuring him to take care of himself and make her proud of him in front of his face for him to lip-read. He had finished saying goodbye quickly, feeling the tears prickle in his eyes as time passed, finally getting in the train to leave to the French capital.

         Right now, Andrea still was in the train and from what was written on the screens – _they were mandatory since one person on seven was deaf in the population_ -, they were about to arrive in less than two or three minutes. Sighing, Andrea stood up and grabbed his huge luggage from above his seat, struggling a bit before eventually putting it down and waiting for the engine to stop so he could get out.

         Struggling a bit more with his luggage, he went out of the station catching the right bus just in time, waiting for another forty minutes rides to the training centre where the PSG boarding school was located.

         He eventually arrived and went straight to his room. When he entered it, he noticed that his roommate and teammate, Maxime, was already there, reading something on his phone.

         **“ _Hey man!”_** he exclaimed, his lips moving a bit too quickly but Andrea still caught what he was saying. His friend always forgot that he was deaf. Maxime stood up to greet him and then resumed lying on his bed while Andrea started to unpack his luggage ** _. “Did you get the news about the new recruits in the first team?”_** he asked after getting his attention.

         Andrea shook his head no, opening the note app in his phone, _‘No, who did they sign?’_

_**“A young Argentine called Lo Celso who arrived two days ago, and Julian Draxler, a German world champion who seem to be very talented,”**_ Maxime uttered slowly.

         _“When will he arrive?”_ he wrote, more to make polite conversation than because of serious interest. Well, of course he was eager to know about the new recruits for the professional team of the club he was playing for, but he knew that his club would make the right choice and sign with talented players.

         **“ _Today I think_ ,” **he simply said, and then the both of them remained silent for a moment.

         Maxime was smaller than by at least a head – _but considering that Andrea actually was really tall it was to be expected_ -, and he had ageusia. His frizzy hair was long enough for him to have an afro hairstyle, and to be honest, it suited him well. His roommate was a central defender and a good one at it if you asked Andrea. Multiple times he had had a hard time dribbling past him in training, and he had saved them several times during matches with perfect tackles. If he had to bet on one of his teammates to be one of the greatest players of the world in ten years, Andrea definitely would choose him.

         **_“So, are you ready for tomorrow morning?”_** Maxime asked cheerfully, his face turned to him to make sure Andrea could lip-read what he said **. _“A chance to be part of the first team on the winter tour! It’s huge!”_** he continued when Andrea nodded.

         Andrea was actually a bit stressed about the training on the next morning. It could definitely be a huge chance for any of them, for their career, and all of them of course wanted to be chosen, but unfortunately only two of them would go. They had all ‘prepared’ themselves for this training during their short holidays as thoroughly as possible, that much was sure. For instance, Andrea had gone running for two hours twice a day to be sure that he would be in best shape. It was stressful, but now none of them could train anymore, they had to be fully rested for tomorrow.

         Andrea put his suitcase away under his bed, all of his clothes now being tucked in his dresser as he went to sit at his desk. He still had some homework to do, and right now it certainly would be the only thing that would keep his mind busied enough to not worry about what could occur during tomorrow’s training.

 

         He was used to be watched while playing football. It was their coaches’ job to watch them, to instruct them, to make them getting better and better every time they stepped onto the pitch. He was used to it, but today was different. The premier team coach was there too, standing right next to their own coach, the two of them talking with low voices. Everyone in the team knew what they were about; they had been informed about it weeks before their short holidays. Unai Emery was here to see if any of them had reached the level to have a try with the first team during the winter tour. It was not the first time he came to one of their training sessions, and they all knew that both coaches talked a lot together about the progress of each one of them. But today was an important day; today he would choose two of them.

         So Andrea pushed himself. He pushed himself to his limits, doing his best to be noticed. Of course he was realistic; he knew that his teammates were as good as him so the ‘competition’ was harsh. His teammates were also friends or even family to him, so he wished for them to succeed as much as he wished it for himself.

         At some point he found himself with the ball at his feet, halfway through the pitch. He noticed a weakness in the defence and immediately took advantage of it, dribbling past Maxime and the other defenders with some difficulties before eventually taking his chance about fifteen meters away from the goalpost when he saw the goalkeeper – _Bastien_ \- run towards him to stop him.

         _‘_ FUCK!’ he thought when the ball which had a perfect curved trajectory hit the crossbar in the upper left corner; Bastien could not reach it even while jumping. It would have been a perfect goal.

         Turning around he saw the coaches talk while looking at him, and Andrea was sure that he had just blown out his chance for today. The first team needed scorer, not missed opportunities.

         The training went on after that, and Andrea did not get any other opportunity to score. Unfortunately, he even made a mistake at some point, making his team lose the ball. He tried not to beat himself up too much for failing, telling himself that it wouldn't be the last time the first team coach would come to see them play. Today was just not the day. But still, it annoyed him a lot.

         He was sitting on the ground, stretching his adductor muscle, focused on doing it right to not hurt himself when he saw feet walking towards him from the corner of his eye. When he looked up he saw Bérengère, his coach's assistant standing in front of him.

         She was a rather tall brunette with beautiful green eyes contrasting with her chocolate skin. Andrea did not really know her age but it was clear that she was about twenty eight. She was nice and always tried to help them as much as she could, and the fact she had been deaf before meeting her soul mate was of great help for Andrea as she could sign to him when he didn't get what happened or what they were supposed to do right away.

         ‘ _The coach wants to see you once you’re done,’_ she signed simply.

_‘Why? Did I do something wrong?’_ he inquired back _._

_‘You’ll see,’_ she only answered, the corner of her lips being stretched upward ever so slightly.

         This exchange could be understood both ways. On one hand, it could mean good news, but on the other hand it could also mean bad ones. He hoped for the first one, but considering that he committed mistakes during the training match, Andrea was not so sure about it.

         So here he was now, still in his training kit, standing in front of his coach’s office, swaying from one foot to the other one nervously, waiting for the door to open.

         When it did, he was met by the big smile of his coach, inviting him to get in. Bérengère was standing in the middle of the room alongside with Unai Emery, both of them smiling too.

         After that everything went by in a blur. The coaches announced that he would be heading to Tunis tomorrow morning and that he had to prepare his suitcase. They informed him that it was a try out and that the results could lead to great things for him if he was convincing enough. They even asked Bérengère to sign it to him to be sure that Andrea understood everything.

         At first he did not react at all at what they were telling him, too shocked to process anything, but when the first team coach, Unai Emery, shook his hand at the end, he realised. He realised that he had been chosen. It was so unexpected, that when the door closed behind him when he got out of the room, he nearly burst out into tears of joy.

         Andrea could see from the corner of his eye one of his teammates making his way to him too, smiling.

         **_“You’re chosen too?”_** Nour asked and hugged him quickly when Andrea nodded. **_“We’re going to show them we’re the best then!”_**

 

         Andrea had spent the remaining day with packing his things. He thought that this training had been stressful as it could mean a lot to his career, but he had never thought that it would even be worse if he ever got chosen. The knot in his stomach had started to make itself known the moment he had entered his bedroom. There was something inside him that screamed to him that this would bring him way more than what it would bring to his career. Andrea did not know why he felt like that but he guessed that it was probably because of his nervousness.

         This night, he fell asleep staring at his wrist where two small letters were inked into his skin. The initial letters of his soul-mate’s name.

         For the moment they were a faint grey, but when they would finally meet there would be his or her entire name written there in black. Andrea did not look at them often; he still had a few years to find his soul-mate, so he did not really care about it.

         Moreover, it was the custom to hide your soul marks whether you found them or not, so he usually did not see his as it was hidden under a bracelet, wristband, or even aid tape during a match. But tonight was different. He was nervous and usually when he was nervous it soothed him to look at it, to touch the small letters. It was as if his soul-mate was there, soothing him in a way. Many people did that, the soul mark was made to unite the soul-mates and even if they had not met yet, they could ‘help’ each other that way.

         Andrea and his soul-mate used this way of communication quite often, for as long as the football player remembered they had always done it. The previous months must have been very stressful or very bad for his soul mate for example, because the person called for him several time, sometime several times a week or even a day. Such a distress from his soul-mate had been difficult for him to cope; sometimes all he wanted to do was to meet the person and take them in his arms and never let them go.

 

         Andrea's hands were literally shaking with nervousness when he was standing there in the airport hall among the premiere team players. Many of them had come to present themselves, some of them even signing a few words to him when they noticed that he was deaf - _maybe someone had simply told them that he couldn't hear_. He tried his best to not be too overwhelmed by what happened around Nour and him, but he could see that his teammate was feeling the same way as he did. These men around him were all world class players, they were men he had dreamt to meet, he had dreamt to play with or to be like them, so it was hard to overcome his joy and excitation.

         **_“I did not know ‘Andrea’ could be a male name,”_** Presnel Kimpembe said while shaking his hands. Andrea was used to people saying that.

         **_“No, no, it’s an Italian name for men, but here in France you give it to girls,”_** Marco Verratti who was standing right next to them said. “ ** _Is one of your parents Italian?”_**

         _‘Sì, mia madre è napoletana,’ Andrea_ typed on his phone.

         **_“Oh! È fantastico!”_** the other one exclaimed while a huge grin stretched his lips.

         **_“But your last name is ‘Ulanov’? It’s not French either, right?_** ” Layvin Kurzawa stated.

         _“No, my father is Russian. My parents met in France and stayed here. But I consider myself as French and I play with the French U-19 team,_ ” he explained.

         **_“And you Nour, where are you from?”_** Presnel asked, and from then the discussion changed to his teammate’s family.

         It was nice to see their new teammates trying to get to know them. Surely the tour would only last a few days but still, it was nice to see them trying to include them in the group. He could see that they were doing the same with the new transfers Julian Draxler and Giovani Lo Celso.

         Soon enough they were sitting in the plane for a rather quick fly of an hour and a half to Tunis. Despite not really intending to do that at first, Andrea fell asleep after about twenty minutes, more out of boredom than out of tiredness.

        

         The hotel was awesome. As a part of the U-19 team, they usually did not go to such places, so it definitely felt weird to sit on the luxurious bed right in the middle of an even more luxurious room. Thankfully Nour was as amazed as Andrea himself, if the fact that he looked around at everything with round eyes meant anything. At least Andrea was not the only one feeling that way.

         They had arrived in their shared room just a few minutes ago, after having had lunch in the hotel restaurant. They had about an hour for themselves before having their first training session, and even though he was utterly amazed by the room he was in, Andrea could not forget about the knot in his stomach. He could not forget about his intuition about something big that would occur during this tour either.

         They spent the next hour ‘discovering’ their room and how luxurious it was before eventually leaving for the training ground with the rest of the team.

         Everything went well, they warmed up without any troubles, gave their best in the first exercises and eventually, a training match started. At first Andrea did not touch the ball much, not really daring to ask for it actually, but as minutes passed, the more confident he became when he noticed that his new teammates tried to pass him the ball more and more often.

         He was running through the middle of the field, the ball at his feet when it happened though. He had just dribbled past one of his teammates and was now blocked in front of Thiago Silva when he _heard_ it.

         **“Here!”** a voice called for the pass on his left.

         _Here._

         He _heard_ it.

         Andrea _heard_ the voice. He did not lip-read it or the person did not sign it, actually Andrea was not even looking at the person so he could not do such things. The person had talked, asked with their voice and Andrea had heard it.

         He immediately froze in the middle of the pitch, not understanding anything, staring at the person the voice belonged to.

         It was unexpected, and he could see that everyone had stopped around him to stare at him, not understanding what happened to him. But he heard it. He heard his voice. He _heard_ Julian’s voice.

         Julian.

         Julian Draxler.

         Julian Draxler was his soul-mate, and he, Andrea, was no longer deaf.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So here is the second part, I dearly hope you'll like it. :)  
> I hope you will like this part too, and once again I would like to thank Blue_night for the amazing beta work she's doing (if you had not, go read her story she's an awesome writer!).  
> Much of love,  
> Alika <3

         The kiss was rough. A bit too rough for Andrea's liking, but he did not complain. Julian’s kisses were always rough, and despite it being surprising that someone as calm as the German actually was kissed that roughly, Andrea tried to get used to it by now. The younger one preferred to think that Julian’s kisses were gentle in their own way; he tried not to think about why Julian never was gentle in his ministration toward him. Deep down he knew the reason, but it was easier to forget about it and try to enjoy the moment. They were soul-mates after all, Julian therefore must care about him, he would not be with him if this was not the case but would have rejected their bond, right?

         It took them a few second to finally get in the bedroom and once being there, the German player immediately started to undress him. His shirt was the first thing coming off, Julian opening all the buttons in one single movement, the fact they were pressed stud making it even easier. Just a few seconds later, Andrea could feel his soul–mate's hands on his belt, unfastening it as hastily as before, while Julian’s lips were already biting and nipping the skin of his neck, certainly leaving marks. Within seconds, his jeans pooled around his feet and the young French stepped out of them, leaving him in his boxer shorts only in front of a still fully clothed Julian. The latter one led him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed, before the older one pushed firmly against him to make Andrea lie down on his back.

         **“You’re okay with what will happen?”** the German asked, locking his inquiring eyes with Andrea's, and when Andrea only nodded he continued, **“Say it, I need to hear your consent.”**

         **“Yes, Julian I want this,”** the younger one eventually uttered, feeling his cheeks warming as a slight blush spread on his skin.

         Andrea watched as Julian got rid of his shirt and his trousers quickly, enjoying the view of Julian’s perfect body just a few centimetres away from him. Shivers ran though his body, going straight to his manhood when his soul-mate’s eyes eventually met his again. This time they were dark, driven by pure lust, and the younger one was not sure whether he liked it or if he was afraid of it.

         The German eventually joined him on the bed, placing himself between his spread legs, covering Andrea’s toned body with his equally muscled one before resuming kissing him, biting his lip from time to time. The fact they were of the same height and more or less equally strong was something Andrea liked. Their age gap clearly bothered the older one - _Julian had told him several times before, and the fact Andrea had finally turned eighteen surely was a small relief for him_ -, but they were at least of the same build, and Andrea did not have a body that could make the older one feel even worse for being together with someone who was six years younger than him and barely legal.

         Julian’s lips left his mouth, moving to his jaw, biting him there once more while one of his hands was holding his head still. Julian then travelled lower, to his neck, ravaging it more than it already was with the marks he had left earlier. A small squeak left Andrea's lips when the older one bit the junction between his neck and his shoulder harder than before, and Andrea could not help but push him away at this, the pain overcoming the pleasure.

         **“Sorry,”** Julian mumbled, ‘kissing’ – _it was more like a brush of the lips than an actual kiss_ \- the area before moving downwards again, over his chest and directly to his stomach, and once again leaving a trail of hickeys there. Julian stopped just above his navel to look at Andrea's face before grabbing the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down his legs impatiently. Andrea’s cheeks flushed at the sudden exposure. He was of course used to be naked in front of other men in the locker room, but this time it was different; it was more intimate, or at least it should be.

         The German’s eyes went back to look at his younger soul-mate while he pressed his still clothed hips hard against Andrea’s naked shaft drawing a loud moan from him in the process. The older one repeated his action again and again; one of his hands holding him in place by grabbing hips, certainly bruising him in the process, considering how much force Julian used. Julian's other hand was supporting his own weight next to Andrea’s head. The young French could not help but moan and groan every time Julian pressed his clothed crotch against his own naked one, his eyes closed to enjoy it as much as he could.

         The movements were hard and lacked the gentleness Andrea would have loved, but it was Julian, and Andrea knew his soul-mate by now, he knew gentleness was not what he would get from him. The younger one did not like to think about that; he did not like that because he usually came to the conclusion that Julian had troubles dealing with the fact his soul-mate was a man. It hurt Andrea when he thought about it, because deep down he knew this was true, he knew Julian hated being together with a man, he knew that Julian hated the soul-mate thing because he had always hoped to be together with a woman one day  instead of having to put up with Andrea in the end. And even though Julian always said that Andrea was perfect the way he was, Andrea knew that it was a lie. He just knew. Moreover, Julian usually closed his mind towards him and Andrea was unable to get any feeling from him.

This time it was different though, the German must have been too focused on what he was doing because the younger one suddenly was overwhelmed by feelings that were not his and definitely belonged to Julian. That was how he got the confirmation of what he already knew.

         He was not what or who Julian wanted.

         Tears started to fill his eyes at the realisation, and he quickly covered his face with one of his arm, hiding it from Julian’s eyes – _not that the older one would have seen his tears anyway - as Andrea had closed his eyes a while ago, focusing on how good what they were doing felt_.

         Andrea suddenly hated himself. He hated himself for having wanted this to happen. He hated his body for responding to Julian’s. He hated his dick for twitching at every touch of Julian. He hated his body for enjoying the moment when he knew Julian certainly was thinking of another body underneath him; thinking about a smaller and thinner body, a body with curves, with boobs and most importantly: a vagina. A body that was the opposite to his own. He hated himself for not pushing the older one away and for the sounds of pleasure that escaped his own lips.

         At this point his moans were mixed with slight sobs, and he prayed for them both to come quickly, so that he could roll himself in a ball and forget about it, forget about the fact his soul-mate did not want him, forget about the fact that his soul-mate did not seem to notice – _or care? -_ that he was crying underneath him.

         Andrea was the first one to come, his climax not being enough to stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks. Taking matter in his hands, Andrea pushed down Julian’s boxer, freeing his member before grabbing it and giving the sloppiest hand job ever. He had never done that to another man before, only to himself, but he was sure that in another moment, in other circumstances it would have been more meticulous and certainly more enjoyable for his partner. From Julian’s grunts he could hear from above him, it must be enough for the older one, and this idea was confirmed when he came in a loud gasp, the hand on Andrea’s hip gripping him firmer if that was even possible, while his semen spilled over the French’s hand and stomach, mixing with Andrea’s seed there.

         They stayed like that a few moment, Andrea suppressing his sobs while Julian was panting loudly. It did not last long because as soon as Julian had pulled himself together, he let go of his hips and stood up, leaving the room to go in the adjoining bathroom.

         Andrea did not move. He could not.

         What had happened had been… a pleasurable moment physically speaking, but mentally, it had been the most painful one he had ever experienced. Julian clearly rejected him. Well he did not reject him directly, but Andrea had felt it through the bond: Julian did not want to be with him, with another man.

         A new wave of sobs threatened to flee his throat when he thought about it again. He suddenly felt shameful of everything despite he knew that it was not his fault. He felt shameful for letting things go that far although Julian did not want him. He felt shameful because it was the first time he had been together with someone else while this person actually craved to be with a woman instead of a man. He felt shameful that his first sexual experience had happened under such circumstances.

         The German eventually came back with a wet towel that he handed to him in order to clean himself and wipe away the drying come on his hand and stomach. The older one did not even look at him, lying down on the other side of the bed, getting under the cover and turning his back to him wordlessly. Andrea bit his tongue at this, quickly cleaning himself before getting under the cover too and curling himself into a ball on the other side of the bed, his eyes staring in between Julian’s shoulder blade while his soul-mate was slowly falling asleep.

         Silent tears rolled over his cheeks while he too fell asleep.

 

         Andrea woke up very early the next morning. Earlier than he would have thought, and much too early considering that he only had training at one p.m. The lateness of their training was due to the fact the U-19 had had an important match yesterday afternoon and the coaches had given everyone a chance to sleep longer. Moreover, yesterday had been Valentine day, so the coaches had accepted to let him go to Julian’s match against Barcelona and then let them have the rest of the night together. This normally should have been a good idea, and Andrea had been looking forward to spend some time with his soul-mate, but right now - that he was lying on his side in Julian’s bed, watching the German's chest rise and fall with every breath he took - he regretted it.

         As soon as Julian had come back from the bathroom last night, he had closed his mind to him again, making Andrea feel like he had been kicked out. This feeling perfectly matched how Andrea had felt just after what had happened last night. This had been the night of many first times and they had all gone wrong. Learning that his soul-mate hated being with him and did not want him while having sex with him definitely had not been on Andrea’s agenda. He felt rejected and used at the same time.

         Quickly glancing at the name on his wrist, a new wave of tears threatened to fall. He hated how the black ink contrasted with his skin. He suddenly wanted it to go away.

         He had been used to love looking at it.

         Hell, yesterday afternoon, he had spent a few minutes staring at it before his match, hoping that it would help him, that Julian would help him. But now, the very sight of it made him nauseous. He knew that everyone had such a mark and that it was normal to wear the name of your soul-mate, but he felt branded even though he knew that it was silly to feel this way because was always hidden and no one else than him ever saw it.

         Only a few people knew about their bond. Their teammates in the first team knew about them because they had witnessed the moment when they found out, as well as a few of Andrea’s teammates from the U-19 team were in the picture – _his other teammates and people in school had of course noticed that he was no longer deaf, but Andrea never told them who his soul-mate actually was –_ only their families and of course their coaches. Just the ones needing to know about it.

         Julian had not wanted to announce it to anybody else, neither to the fans, nor to the Media. The German had said that he did not see the point in doing it since he had been anomic, so the change was not noticeable for him compared to Andrea who had been deaf. But now that he thought about it, the younger one knew the reason why. If Julian hated the fact of being with him so much, being with a man, then why would he tell it to the rest of the world considering that it was full of ignorant people who thought that same sex romantic bonds were disgusting or did not even believe that it was possible and just ‘friendship bounds’? It was logical, and it hurt Andrea even more.

         Eventually, the young French got up and started to collect his clothes across the room, putting them on hastily, not taking much care of the fact they were creased. He just wanted to leave this place, to go as far away as possible from the German man and for as long as he could.

         He paused a few seconds to look at the man still asleep in the bed. Yesterday night, after the match, they had gone out to eat, and back then the younger one had found it nice, but now he hated the fact that he had tried to make himself look good for him. If Julian did not want him, then Andrea would try to act like that too. He resumed putting his shoes on again while focusing on closing his mind to Julian. Until now, he had always opened up to him, waiting for him to do the same, but now that the older one had done it just to reject him and Andrea knew the truth, he could not see the point of continuing to do so.

         **“Where are you going?”** Julian’s sleepy voice asked him while he was about to leave the bedroom, making Andrea jump in surprise.

         The younger one hadn't thought that the German would wake up right now, and he was still not used to hear someone speaking to him. Yes, it had been a bit more than a month now, but it was still difficult to adapt himself to hearing sounds after eighteen years of silence.

         After the initial shock and bliss of hearing for the first time, Andrea had felt overwhelmed by all the sounds attacking his ears and - invading - his mind. Yes, invading was the right word; he suddenly was no longer alone in his head, where had always been only complete silence before, there were now countless sounds and noises of various levels, from the quiet chatter of his teammates a few meters away, to the cheerful and in high-frequency twittering of the birds singing in the tree more than twenty meters away or the rather loud footsteps of the people surrounding him resonating in his ears, not to mention his own breathing. Everything had been foreign and too sudden and overwhelming for him, and Andrea still had a hard time getting accustomed to it.

         “ **Uh, going back to the centre, I think,”** Andrea muttered, not turning back, not wanting to face the older one and hear his own slurred speech. He hated how he still had troubles speaking sometimes even if he knew it was normal after eighteen years of being mute because of his deafness.

         **“At… six a.m? It’s a bit early don’t you think?”** Julian replied, and Andrea tried to forget about the way his German accent made Julian even more attractive when he spoke French. It did not help either that the younger footballer literally loved Julian’s voice. Out of all the voices he had heard until now – the voice of his soul-mate was definitely the one he preferred and right now it only irritated him as he knew that it was only because of their special bond, a bond Julian didn't appreciate.

         **“I-I just want to go back… I-I have a lot of homework to do,”** he lied although Julian could - and certainly would - see right through it.

         **“…OK… just give me a few seconds to get dressed. I’ll drive you back,”** he said and Andrea could hear the sheets moving and Julian getting out of bed.

 **“No. No, I’ll take the bus, it’s alright,”** he pleaded still facing the door.

         **“Don’t be silly, it’s too early, there is no bus going to the training centre at this hour** ,” the older one chided him, and Andrea could not answer back to this, perfectly knowing that it was true. So he waited, not daring to turn around. He could hear the drawers being pulled open and Julian quickly getting dressed. **“Let’s go,”** the German eventually said after a moment and Andrea opened the door, “ **Are you sure that you don’t want to get breakfast before?”**

 **“Yes, I’ll take it at the centre,”** he answered while they got past the kitchen and eventually to the front door.

         Soon enough they were in Julian’s car in the parking lot, and the older one was starting the engine. They did not move right away. Julian’s hands were resting on the steering wheel for a few long seconds, and from what Andrea could see of his face, he had that small frown on his forehead and his lips were slightly parted, which usually meant that the older one was looking for the right words in French.

         **“Are you ok?”** he eventually asked, turning his face to him, and Andrea felt himself getting angry at the concern it showed. Julian had no right to feel concerned, not after last night, not after what Andrea had finally learnt about his feelings.

         Looking outside through the window he simply answered, **“Yeah. I’m fine.”**

         **“Are you sure?”** he inquired again, but Andrea did not answer him, letting a long silence fill the expensive car. **“Is it because of what we did last night?”** Julian added after a long moment, trying to take his hand.

 **“I’m fine, Julian, drop it. Now, could you drive me back, please?”** Andrea moved his hand away, not wanting to feel any physical contact with him. Andrea knew that he was rude, but he suppressed his bad conscience. Julian had never been that caring before and he had never tried to grab his hand until this moment. On the contrary, he had always been sort of rough with him, not even really looking at him and Andrea could not help but to for once behave the same way like Julian had always done. He had to push him away before getting even more hurt.

 **“Ok… as you wish,”** the German mumbled, finally driving out of the parking lot. The younger one knew that Julian was confused but he put on a stern face with effort and remained silent.

         The drive was silent and tense. Andrea spent the whole time looking outside, focusing as much as he could on staying calm. He just wanted to get back and crawl under his blanket and never get out again. He wanted to be alone, to just sleep and not think about anything, but unfortunately, Maxime would be there too. Hopefully, his teammate would leave him be and not ask him anything as to why he was back that early or about what had happened last night or anything else.

         They eventually arrived after a rather long time, and the younger one quickly got out of the car, mumbling a quick ‘thank you’. He nearly did not hear the ‘see you’ Julian told him, too busied with exiting the car in a hurry.

         Andrea nearly ran through the corridors leading to his room, and once the door opened, he barely took the time to get undressed before getting under his blanket as he had planned it. Sleep came quickly for once, and just as yesterday night, silent tears were rolling down on his cheeks as he fell into the arms of Morpheus.

         Andrea remembered how happy he had been when he had heard Julian’s voice for the first time, how happy he had been to finally hear for the first time in his life and to find his soul mate.

         He remembered the talk they had had with the coaches afterwards, how such a bond between two football players was rare but could be beneficial for the both of them on the pitch. And it was true. They could sense each other, knowing where the other one was without even looking at him, communicating together through their bond.

         It actually had been the only times Julian had communicated with him like that, even though he had never fully invited him in his head – _not until yesterday night_. There had always been this inaccessible part, and the moment they left the pitch, the German completely closed up on him.

         Until today, Andrea had never really cared, focusing on the fact Julian had ‘accepted’ him and that they had indeed bounded despite it being unsteady. But now he knew. Last night had forced him to realise, to understand, and now the younger player only wanted to forget about all this.

         He wanted to forget the man whose name was inked on his wrist. He wanted to forget the man who could not bear the idea to have him as his soul-mate. Andrea just wanted to forget about the whole soul-mate thing, and he wished it had never existed, that he had never been deaf and never had a soul-mate.

         But this was not how the world worked. He would not wake up and realise that it had all just been a dream, that he only had crazy dreams, and that the soul-mate part had only been created by his imagination. The universe had bounded him to someone who hated him, and now he was left with a broken heart.

 

         Andrea woke up to someone nudging him slightly, and when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by Maxime's inquiring eyes.

         **“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to still be with Julian?”** his friend eventually voiced out, sitting on the edge of his bed. It always surprised Andrea to hear Maxime’s voice. It was very deep and hoarse and it did not suit him at all. His room-mate was kind and gentle and this voice was too harsh for his personality in Andrea’s opinion.

         “ **Hmm, it’s a long story,”** Andrea simply said, the fact that he was sleepy accentuating his slurred speech, and he turned around, hiding his face under his blanket.

         “ **What happened? Did something go wrong? Come one tell me, you know you can tell me everything, I won’t judge,”** Maxime continued, grabbing the hem of the blanket, pushing it down to look him in the eyes.

         **“What happened? What happened is that I’m a fucking idiot, Max,”** Andrea uttered, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from rolling over his cheeks. He had cried enough in his opinion; his friend did not need to see him that weak.

         **“I’m sure it’s not that bad, everything will fall back in place. You’ll see, everything will be okay again,”** the smaller one tried to comfort him, but in all honesty, Andrea could see that his teammate did not know what to say or what to do to help him. **“What makes you think you are an idiot?”**

         Andrea stayed silent at this question, not really able to voice his shame of having been fooled that much. Julian had only seen him as convenient, a soul- mate bond that helped him, helped him on the pitch, affected his performance in a good way, but he didn't love him, and he clearly didn't want to be with him.

         **“He doesn’t want me,”** Andrea murmured miserably, and if he known before that this would hurt that much to finally say it out loud, then he would never have done it. Finally admitting it with spoken words only made it even more real, and his heart ached so much. **“He never did.”**

 **“I’m sure you must have misinterpreted it, Julian seems to care about you,”** Maxime tried once more, but Andrea interrupted.

         **“He doesn’t care about me, Max! He hates it that I am a man; he hates being bound to a man! He doesn’t want me! And you know why I know that? because we freaking had sex together and he freaking finally opened his mind to me without realising it…”** the taller one finally exploded, his voice breaking at the end, heavy sobs taking over control and preventing him from continuing. He turned his face towards his pillow, hiding his tears from his shorter friend, deeply ashamed.

         “ **I-I don’t know what to tell you, Andrea… I just know that everything will be okay,”** he said while rubbing his arm and Andrea knew that his friend did his best. Maxime usually did not really like physical contact - unlike Andrea - so it was nice knowing that his friend was ready to act out of character to help him, to try to comfort him.

         “ **No, it can’t. I feel so ashamed of not realising it sooner; I’m such an idiot for falling in love with someone who doesn't even like me,”** he sobbed, his voice muffled by his pillow.

         **“Don’t beat yourself up for that, he’s your soul-mate after all, it’s normal that you love him.”**

 **“But he doesn’t love me back,”** Andrea whined, turning around, eventually letting Maxime see what a hopeless mess he was.

         **“I’m sure he does, in his own way, but he does. You’re his soul-mate, even if he wanted to, he could not not love you back,”** his shorter teammate replied, still rubbing his arm soothingly.

         **“But I do hate him, Max, I hate him so much,”** the half-Italian half-Russian footballer mumbled a few minutes later, once the sobs had finally died down.

         **“It’s your anger that is speaking. You should speak together,”** Maxime said wisely, stopping his action of rubbing his arm.

         **“I’m not seeing him ever again; I don’t want to, I don’t need to any more.”**

 **“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll have to talk this out, you know that as much as I do. Now the only question is, will you follow my advice or let things get worse? Only you know the answer,”** he told him before standing up and heading to his dresser and grab clothes from the drawers.

         Andrea knew his friend was right, but he could not follow his advice. Not now at least. He was too hurt for that, for going back to the man who had hurt him so much. He needed time to himself, time to think, time to heal. He knew avoiding Julian would be difficult as Julian did his best to come and see him as often as possible. The German usually came to arrangements with the coach to take him out, so it would be difficult to explain that he no longer wanted to see his soul-mate. He would have to explain everything to the coaches, and he was not ready to tell them about it, he felt too ashamed for that.

         After the talk with Maxime, the day went by without mishap. And the following one too, as well as the following week. After the few days in Tunis, Andrea had been called regularly to train with the first team, and he even was sitting on the bench during the match against Dijon on the fourth of February, but since Valentine day, since what had happened with Julian a few days ago, he had not, and Andrea was grateful for that.

         It pained him to think that as it was for his career and that should be what mattered the most to him. He would have had to see Julian, people would have expected them to interact together, to touch each other even if it was a simple brush of hands, and the young footballer was still not ready for that. He was not ready to live up to the expectations of their teammates or to answer the questions of why he avoided his own soul-mate. No one would have understood him, understood his behaviour.

         It always surprised him to see how people tended to forget that even if two being were meant to be, they still could have troubles being together. Being soul-mates did not make a relationship easier; it could very well complicate it as the person did not choose their soul-mate and maybe didn't like them. People were driven by the public opinion to think that meeting their soul-mate would be the greatest thing in their life, that after that everything would be okay.

         But that was wrong. Yes, their disabilities disappeared, and in the cases of constraining ones, life would become easier, but to build a relationship with someone was not as easy as it sounded like. Andrea himself had had these expectations. He had thought that considering Julian and he were soul-mates, then everything would go perfectly, and until less than a week ago it had been like this in some way, but in the end it hadn't worked out.

         It hadn't worked out because Julian did not want him, and Andrea had eventually learnt about it in the worst way imaginable.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, feel free to give me your opinion on it, I would love it :) Whether it be positive or negative as long as it's constructive :)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a fiction about real people. I do not own the players mentioned and as much as I know none of the things described here ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no seeing! This last part took me quite some time to write because of its’ length and because of the change of point of view by the middle indicated with a small ‘❋’ (but also, let's be honnest, I'm a slow writer! XD). I had no other choice than changing the point of view from there to the end of the chapter and you will soon understand why I think. I hope you will like it, and as always feel free to give me some feedback about it :)
> 
> As I always do, I would like to thank Blue_night for the awesome beta work she’s doing, and if until now you still have not read her stories, you should because you’re truly missing out something!

    **"... and now, you have to add the Sodium hydroxyde to your solution in the beaker,"** Mister Lenouvai, Andrea’s Chemistry teacher, told them, doing the same on his desk in front of them.

    **“Uh… Sir? Is it normal that it becomes purple?”** Tristan asked from the lab bench behind him.

    **“And that it’s making bubbles?”** Gabin, his lab partner, added. Andrea turned around at this, curiosity having the better of him.

    **“What?! What have you two done again?! It’s supposed to be yellow!”** the teacher rushed to them, his face showing a mixture of anger and panic at the same time. **“You two are a total disaster! I swear that one day, you will blow up the lab!”** Mr Lenouvai said grabbing the beaker and rushing to the back of the room with the sparkling solution.

    “ **He’s not wrong, guys, you should pay more attention,”** Camille, Andrea’s lab partner, said when the two boys simply sat there, not caring about their furious teacher, **“We have a lab work paper at the Baccalauréat, and should I remind you that it is in only three months?”**

    **“Well, I’m not counting my lab’ work mark to get my BAC,”** Tristan shrugged.

    **“We’re not lab’ pro’ like you two,”** the other one said.

    **“It’s not that difficult, the teacher is doing it in front of us! I don’t know how you always manage to fuck everything up!”** the small blonde girl uttered bewildered, turning around and focusing back on the successful experiment, and Andrea did the same after a small shrug toward his classmates. Camille was always like that; she always got angry when she saw people failing things and not caring about it. It was not because she thought that she was better than anyone else, on the contrary, it was because she cared about others. She wanted to help them, to make them realise that this was their last year and that they should start studying and learning for their final exams. Moreover she hated to see that her own brother, Gabin, did not seem to realise that he was failing nearly every class and that he surely wouldn't get his Baccalauréat and would have to repeat his last year.

    Andrea remembered the first time he had heard his classmates’ voices. He remembered how surprised he had been for some of them as they had not matched at all what he had imagined them to be like. But he had not been surprised about Camille's; she was a sweet and caring person and her voice was soft, pleasant, and dulcet. She had always been nice to him, helping him in class when he had still been deaf and had not been able to catch what the teacher had said. She was anosmic, but her younger brother was deaf too, and she knew the sign language because of him, so she had been able to sign for Andrea.

    As they waited for the teacher to come back to continue the experiment, Andrea turned his eyes toward the windows. The young football player loved Thursdays. He loved that his last class was lab work. This week it was about Chemistry but on some others, it was about Physics. He loved these classes.

He preferred to do experiments rather than having a ‘normal’ class, so finishing his school day with this was really nice. Classes finished late in France; depending on the day, they finished either at four - if they were lucky - five or even six p.m. if they were unlucky. _Wednesdays were the only exception, where they finished at half past twelve_ \- and to be honest this was a hard rhythm to follow for a young football player like him who woke up at six every day to go train for two and a half hours before starting classes at half past eight - _or nine actually as his schedule was adapted to his training hours_. Moreover, he also usually had training after classes, so this was indeed very tiring. Most of Andrea’s teammates had given up on the idea to get good marks and just did the minimum required to pass their classes, but not Andrea. He was definitely not the best of his class, and it was understandable but he succeeded to have an average of thirteen and he was quite proud of himself for that.

    Thankfully, tomorrow he would not have classes. He had trained with the first team nearly every day this week – _sometimes even having to miss some classes_ \- and the coach wanted him to come with them to the final of the Cup la ligue against Monaco on Saturday. They would have a small training in the morning and then would take a plane to Lyon – _where the final would take place_ \- in the afternoon. Andrea was not expecting much of this, he knew it was very likely that he would stay on the bench for the whole match, but he consoled himself with the thought that he was still very young and that he should be glad to get such opportunities from the first team coach.

    Unfortunately though, he would have to see Julian. Since Valentine’s Day, Andrea had done his best to avoid his soul mate, pretending that he was busy, that he had homework to do or that he had teammates to help for a test, or that he was simply tired; anything that could be good enough as an excuse for the older one to not come and see him. It had worked for a bit more than three weeks until one day the half-Italian spotted him outside his high school, waiting for him. This day he hadn't had any excuse. Julian had asked the U-19 coach if they had training this evening and of course, they had not. It was a Friday night, so Andrea did not have the excuse of having to do homework either since he could do them during the week-end.

    He recalled this day.

_Julian had driven them through the city, eventually parking in a street near the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. Climbing up the numerous stairs leading to the Basilica had been a long and awkward moment. They had both stayed silent, walking with at least one meter between each other. Julian was hidden under a cap and sunglasses to not get recognised, and it sort of worked as no one stopped them to ask for a picture or an autograph of the German, but the younger one could still feel the glances of the people around them._

**“This is beautiful,”** _the older one had uttered when they had been in front of the enormous white Basilica. Andrea could only agree with his soul mate's words. In his opinion, the building was one of the most majestic ones in Paris. The architecture was unique with the huge cupolas and numerous ornaments. Its location on top of the hill of Montmartre made it dominate the entire city. Turning around they had a view over the whole city, and they could recognise numerous famous monuments in the distance._

_They eventually entered the church and spend a long time wandering around in the Basilica, taking in the wonderful interior, the frescos on the ceilings, the numerous vaults, they even climbed up to the dome._

_To be honest, this ‘date’ had not been that horrible, they had visited a wonderful basilica and Andrea actually liked it. What had been awkward though was that they stayed apart, not touching each other. Actually, Julian had tried to grab his hand at some point, when they were in the dome, but the younger one had calmly taken his hand away. He knew that he should enjoy Julian trying to be nice to him, because this was not how he usually behaved, but Andrea couldn't help it. Even after the three weeks that had passed and the time he had had to nurse his broken heart, Andrea still felt deeply hurt._

_When they went out of the Basilica, it was already night and Julian offered him to go eat somewhere in town but the French refused. To be honest he would prefer to go back to the centre. Unfortunately for him, Julian had insisted on them having dinner together and that was how they ended up at the German’s flat. Walking through the door had been difficult, memories of the last time he had been here surfacing. His heart tightened and he remained in the middle of the living room, not daring to do anything while Julian was in the kitchen to grab them something to drink._

**_“_ ** **You can sit you know, _”_** _Julian said from the open kitchen, and the French did so, “_ **I have… beer, orange juice, milk and… water. What do you want?”**

 **“Juice will be good for me,”** Andrea _uttered, trying his best to prevent his voice from shaking, and his attempt must have been successful because his soul mate came back a few seconds later, grinning as he handed him a glass. Of course he sat right next to him on the couch, turning his body so that he was sort of facing him._

**“So…. you’re doing okay? You seem a bit… off,”** _the older one asked after a moment of silence, before taking a sip from his beer._

 _“_ **Yes. I’m just a bit tired,”** _Andrea lied but it was better than what he had intended to answer at first. A snort._

**“You’re sure? You’ve sort of avoided me since Valentine’s Day, you’re sure you are okay with what happened?”** _Julian asked again, his free hand moving toward his face to caress his cheek. Andrea closed his eyes at the touch. He wanted to move away, his mind screaming at him to move away, but his heart could not let him, and he leant into the ministration against his will. A shudder ran through his back, as it enjoyed the touch of his soul mate, as his soul finally stopped aching for something it had been denied for three weeks. But Andrea hated the feeling it delivered inside his chest, he hated the warmth surrounding his heart, because he knew Julian did not actually want him. That he did want to be with a woman._

    “ **If you’re asking me if I’m regretting it then, no, I don’t regret what we did,”** _‘at least I know the truth now’, he wanted to add, but decided against it, opening his eyes again._

**“Okay,”** _Julian simply uttered, moving his hands away._ **“My mom is coming to see the match against Nancy next week, I thought you could come too and meet her, what do you think?”** _the older one continued, taking another sip from his beer. And it all felt weird. All this domesticity, this ‘tenderness’ was not Julian’s usual behaviour._

**“Yeah, it’s a good idea,”** _he replied, taking a sip from his drink as well._

    And that was how he met Monika, Julian’s mother. If he thought the date at Sacré-Coeur had been awkward, it had been even worse with Julian’s mother. She clearly seemed to be a nice woman, and she obviously loved her son with all her heart. She had been nice to him, asking him numerous questions to get to know him, but when she started to talk to him about his son, and how happy she was that he was his soul mate because they seemed to be perfect for each other, Andrea did not know where to put himself. He could not possibly tell her that he hated that he was bonded to her son. That her son had broken his heart.

    After this, Andrea had continued to avoid Julian, seeing him only once or twice in three weeks or during the training Andrea did with the first team. Every time Max asked him if he had talked to Julian and the Half-Italian answered him ‘no’, he could see his friend’s disappointed look and how he shook his head disapprovingly. The former deaf knew that they needed to talk. He himself could not take it any more, he could not behave as if nothing had happened any longer, but each time he was with Julian, he could not find the strength in him to talk about it, even when the older one asked him if he was okay.

Even when he had asked him if he was okay with what had happened. He preferred to lie, and he knew he was being a coward, but his heart ached so much. It ached so much, and Andrea was afraid that by talking about it, it would get worse. So he lied. He lied, plastering a mask of happiness on his face during training, during his few moments with Julian.

    Training was difficult. They used to communicate on the pitch through their bond before, but now the young French refused to open up his mind to him even the slightest, like Julian had used to do. He did not want to let his soul mate in his mind any more, and he was meaning to do that for any circumstances. Each time he could feel Julian’s eyes on him, he could feel Julian’s nudge through their bond, but he never confronted him to his change of his behaviour. Not until yesterday.

_To prepare the match against Monaco correctly, Andrea had gone to nearly every training with the first team this week. On Monday and Tuesday everything went fine. He behaved the same around Julian, answering him when his soul mate talked to him but nothing more. He even let the older one kiss his cheek to say hello and goodbye as usual. On Wednesday though, Julian grabbed his arm before training._

_“_ **You need to open your mind, Andrea, we’re soul mates, this is an advantage on the pitch,”** _he said quickly before joining their teammates._

_Andrea knew he was right. They had played amazingly together before Valentine’s Day. This definitely had helped them as they could ‘talk’ together through the bond, they knew what the other was about to do before he even did it, they could sense each other, know where the other one was without looking at him and they could pass the ball to each other without a glance this way._

_And so he had tried, but as soon as he had gotten the first scrap of Julian’s mind, he had closed up again._

_He knew Julian would not open up his mind like he did when they had sex, Andrea would not have access to such intimate feelings and thoughts, but he could not help but being scared. Scared of learning about something he would rather not know; learning about another painful truth. Scared of being rejected once more. Because that is what it had been: Julian accepting their bond in façade, but rejecting him deep down._

_He had been lost in his thought for the rest of training. Julian must have felt his few seconds lasting opening up, because he glared at him during the whole training. Their teammates definitely must have sensed that something was up because Andrea could feel their eyes on them when Julian walked up to him at the end._

**“Why didn’t you open up? We need it, Andrea. I don’t know why you refuse, but you need to sort this out before tomorrow, because the coach is expecting us to use this advantage on the pitch!”** _he scolded him._

**“I can’t,”** _the French simply said, his eyes locked on their feet. He could not look him in the eyes._

 _“_ **Why? You’ve changed so much since what happened on Valentine’s day, and don’t say the contrary it’s true, everyone noticed, our teammates noticed, hell, even the coaches noticed something was wrong between us!”** _Julian exploded, but seeing they were still not alone on the pitch he did not raise his voice a lot._

**“The coaches talked to you about us?”** _Andrea definitely thought he had everything under control - that none of their teammates or coaches would really notice the change but now it was obvious that he had been wrong._

**“Of course they did! We used to see each other numerous times a week before, you were smiling and when we played together, even if it was just during training, we literally beamed! But now, you’re avoiding me, accepting to see me every second week, not talking to me if I don’t, you don’t even let me hold your hand! I’m trying, I’m trying so hard for this bond to work but you seem to don’t want it any more!”**

_Julian’s words were like an electroshock. The German could not say that; not when he was the one who did not want him._

**“Don’t you dare saying that!”** _The younger one exploded too, lifting his eyes to meet his soul mates._

**“Then open up to me! Why did you stop doing it?”** _And he sounded so hurt that Andrea became even angrier if that was possible._

 _“_ **You want to know why? I will show you.”**

_And so he did._

_He let down all the fences, all the wall he had built around his mind. He let Julian in. He let him see, he let him feel the rejection. He showed him how their intimate session had been the worst emotional moment of his life. He let him know how much he was hurt. He let him know that he knew. That Julian did not want him. He let him know about his fears, about his love, about his disillusionment, about his dejection, about his shame, about his guilt of being a man. He let him know how much he had hurt him, how much his behaviour even before their intimacy had left him the feeling of being uncared for. He let him know about his anger and his woefulness._

_He let him know everything._

Andrea remembered vividly how Julian’s face had fallen. He remembered the guilt and how Julian had tried to reach for him, to grab his hand. He remembered how Julian had mumbled a small “I’m sorry” once the French had eventually closed up again. The younger had left him immediately afterwards, not wanting, not needing to hear Julian’s excuses and the older one had let him, knowing that nothing he could say right now could make up for all of this.

    This was over. Andrea could feel it; their bond had never been as unsteady as it was now. He had had training with the first team this morning, but Julian had not tried or dared to come closer and talk to him. If anyone had not noticed something was wrong before their talk yesterday, then they definitely must have now.

   

 

    “ **So, Andrea, you’re okay?”** a voice asked after sitting next to him in the plane.

    Andrea nearly jumped in surprise not expecting someone to sit next to him. Turning his head away from the window he was even more surprise to see the team captain, Thiago Silva next to him. Surely, they had already talked in the past, but it had always been short conversation, mostly during trainings.

    “ **Yeah, I’m great. Why?** ”

    **“As the captain of the team, you must know that you can talk to me about anything if you need to; I’ll never judge you and I will support you,”** he started and continued when the French frowned, **“If you need someone to talk to, about anything that upsets you, I’m here.”**

    **“If you want me to talk about my bond issues with Julian, then I don’t think there’s anything left of it. We’re not made to be together,”** Andrea admitted out loud for the first time, and he looked away through the windows, trying his best not to let any tears fall on his cheeks.

    “ **You are soul mates, there must be a solution. Every bond is unique, and even though you might think it’s over for the moment, there is a reason why the universe brought you together,”** the Brazilian tried to comfort him, patting his shoulder.

    **“Thank you, Thiago,”** the young football player uttered after a moment of silence. He wanted to believe in his captain’s words, but for the moment, seeing how damaged their bond was, he could not.

 

 

    **“…Andrea in the midfield…”** Unai Emery continued to explain them the line-up and the strategy – _which they were talking about for over an hour now, and hopefully they would soon go to dinner._

    The young player could not believe what he had just heard. This match was going to be his first one. He was going to make his debut tomorrow against Monaco. This was… unexpected. Sure, he had known this day would come but he had never thought this would be so soon and most importantly during a final!

    He tried to focus again on what their coach was telling them, but it was difficult. He was thinking about everything that was going to happen to him tomorrow. It would be a great change and Andrea did not know whether he was nervous or excited.

    “ **Congratulation, mate!”** Presnel was the first one to congratulate him as they were heading out to the hotel restaurant for dinner. Soon enough many other teammates did the same and Andrea could not help but grin.

    As they arrived in the dining hall, a hand grabbed his wrist and without surprise, he was faced with his soul mate when he turned around.

    **“I know you certainly don’t want to talk to me right now, but at least let me congratulate you for your debut,”** Julian told him calmly, while he caressed his wrist tenderly with his thumb, just above his soul mate mark. It had an immediate effect on Andrea, warmth and shivers spreading out from this small ministration. “ **Also, I know that you might not like this idea, but if we want to play our best tomorrow you must agree to open up to me.”**

    “ **Thank you. I will think about it,”** Andrea simply answered taking his wrist away from Julian’s grip and turning around.

 

 

    The match had started perfectly. Julian had scored the first goal in the fourth minute and Paris led the match until the twenty-seventh minute by an equaliser goal of Lemar. Eventually, Ángel managed to score Paris’ second goal just before half time. Andrea still did not open his mind to Julian and every time the German passed next to him, he sent him a meaningful glance.

    Walking in the locker room at half time, Andrea could already feel that his muscles were going to ache tomorrow, but right now he had to remain focused on the match.

    The coach gave them a small motivating speech and soon enough they were heading out again.

    **“Andrea!”** Julian called out for him just before heading out of the tunnel, “ **You must open your mind! You don’t have to do it fully, just enough for us to communicate, this will help us!”** he added before walking past him.

    Andrea knew his soul mate was right; he knew it, yet, it seemed to be so difficult for him now. These past few weeks he had gotten used to push Julian away from his mind each time the older one had tried to reach for him – _mostly on the pitch_. He had been hurt and still was, but right now he had to focus on the professional part of this. This was an advantage and any other players in the world would use it, even when their team was winning.

    Putting his feeling aside, Andrea put down his wall for the second time this week. He immediately felt the presence of the German in his mind.

    ‘Thank you,’ Julian communicated through the bond.

    ‘I’m not doing it for you.’

    ‘I know.’

    And their exchange stopped there as the match started again. The change was immediate. The midfield was even more fluid and cohesive. Passes were made without a glance, surprising their opponents. Julian did not even try to invade his mind to much, just picking up the necessary information like Andrea did with him.

    At some point around the fiftieth minute, Andrea found himself with the ball and as he was running forward in a counter-attack, a defender ran in his direction, tackling him and making him lose his balance. It all happened quickly, the young player did not even have the time to realise it before everything went black.

 

 

❋

 

 

    Julian was at the other side of the pitch when it happened. He saw it all happen as if in slow motion. He saw how the opponent player tackled Andrea, there was no foul, the tackle in itself was not threatening, but it still made his soul-mate loose his balance. When Andrea tried to get up again, everything went even worse.

It definitely was not the defenders fault, it had all happened so quickly, one second Andrea was on his knees, one of his hands forward to help himself to stand up, and the second after, his face collided with the muscled knee of the opponent player knocking him out immediately. The German saw as his younger teammate’s eyes close with the force of the impact before his head fell on the grass with a sickening noise, his body turning in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position seeing how his hips were turned on the side while the upper part of his back was flat against the pitch and his arms were discarded in weird angles beside him.

    Their mind connection immediately stopped and panic made its way through Julian’s body. This could only mean one thing: Andrea was unconscious.

    Before even realising it, Julian had sprinted to his side, kneeling beside him and turning him on his side in less than a few seconds, opening his mouth and praying every Gods he knew that the few seconds it had taken him to get by his side had not been enough for his soul-mate to swallow his tongue.

    The German vaguely heard the referee blew his whistle behind them a few seconds later after eventually realising what had happened; he only focused on the young man under his hands.

    **“Please, please, Andrea, open your eyes,”** he mumbled while caressing his cheek with one hand while the other one kept him in the recovery position, but of course his soul-mate did not even react, remaining unconscious. Andrea’s nose was crooked in a weird way and was bleeding abundantly. The German player knew he had blood all over his hand and his kit but he did not care one bit about it.

He did not even register his teammates rushing to his side neither the doctors trying to pushing him away, he only held on a bit tighter his soul-mate, worries filling him. They eventually managed to push him aside so that the club’s physician could examine him and Julian watched them doing so, kneeling a few metres away, his bloody hands hanging down on his sides; not registering the arm rolled around his shoulder nor the voice tying to talk to him.

    Andrea was still not moving when he saw from the corner of his eyes that first-aiders were coming with a stretcher. He could not avert his eyes from his soul-mate’s unconscious body, blood painting his face with bright red.

    “ **Julian, Jule’, look at me,”** Kevin shook him, trying to take him out of his shocked state. It eventually worked after a few seconds, and the German player turned his gaze toward his fellow German goalkeeper. **“You need to change your shirt; it’s full of blood stains. Andrea will be okay, the doctors will take care of him, he will be alright,”** he said squeezing his shoulder and leading him to the side of the pitch were assistants were waiting for him with another jersey.

    His eyes still followed the doctors as they were taking Andrea out on the stretcher. Someone helped him to wash his hands quickly from the blood and soon enough he found himself back in the game. Adrien had taken Andrea’s place on the pitch and Julian did his best to remain focused, but his mind could not help but wander to his soul-mate, to his un-responding body, to the blood that had stained his hands. He must have been playing quite poorly because shortly after Edinson’s goal on the fifty-fourth minute, the coach decided to substitute him for Javier.

    He was nearly thankful for this decision; ‘nearly’ because he knew that in a way he had failed his team even though they were winning. He had not been able to remain professional and he had let himself be overwhelmed by the dreadful moment he had just witnessed.

    He longed to go and see Andrea, to see how he was but he had to stay here, sitting on the bench besides him teammates that looked at him apologetically.

    Julian remembered when he had first arrived at Paris. He remembered how nervous he had been, afraid that his transfer would go wrong. The last months in Wolfsburg had been horrible, the fans had been booing during the last matches, his coach did not trust him any more and he simply did not managed to play at his best any more. He had needed this transfer; he had needed to change this bad atmosphere surrounding him. He remembered how distressed he must have seemed to his soul-mate, always seeking for comfort through their mark. Arriving at Paris had been hopeful and the players had been very nice to him, welcoming him and doing their best to help him fit in despite of the language barrier.

    The German remembered the first time he had seen Andrea, it had been at the airport, and they had been far away from each other and had not managed to meet yet. Julian knew the French player must have been quite young, after all he normally belonged to the U-19 team from what he had been told, and at the moment he had not seen the urge to go talk to him.

    He remembered their first training in Tunis, he would always remember his call out for a pass. It had been natural, he had not even thought about the fact that Andréa might not hear him because of his deafness. He remembered those confused eyes turning to look at him, as Andrea had pause immediately, the ball discarded a few metres away. He remembered how everyone had looked at them as confused as they were. He remembered how Andrea’s face had eventually drifted from confusion to pure amazement. He had looked around him enthralled and Julian had eventually realised that the young French was hearing for the first time, hearing all these small noises that constituted natural life, the small birds’ chants in the distance, the footsteps on the grass, the ruffling of clothes as their teammates moved around them. It suddenly hit him too. The strong natural smell of fresh grass being the first and then the musky scents of sweats from himself and his teammates surrounding him. This filled his nostril and he was partly disgusted and partly amazed for being able to scent for the first time.

    He remembered this sudden discovery.

    Andrea was his soul-mate.

    At this realisation he remembered how he had started to panic. The French player was so young, six years younger, and moreover he was a man. _A man_. Shame had started to creep inside him and he had felt like crying. He had always hoped for the contrary, to be bonded to a woman, around his age if possible. His grandfather’s words still resonated in his head. He had known how disappointed the man he had always looked up to would be. He would be a disappointment for him.

    ‘You will be bound to a beautiful girl, Julian, there’s no other way.’ were the words he had heard during all of his childhood. He remembered the numerous times they had spent together imagining the name of his soul mate according to the capital letters on his wrist. _Alice? Anne? Aline? Annelie? Abigail?_ And so on. But now it was _Andrea_. And not even in his female form, in the Italian form, the _male_ one.

    He had known it was too late to step back now, they both knew about their bond, the whole team did, the coach did, he would never be able to reject the bond, and he did not even wanted to do so. So he had tried. Tried to be a good soul mate, bringing Andrea to dates, kissing or hugging him from time to time. At least their bond was an advantage on the pitch and he willingly opened his mind to the French during these moments. He had known this was not really fair to never open up his mind to him outside the pitch but he could not help it, he was not ready for such thing, for having another man in his head.

Andrea had not seemed to complain about how the following weeks had turned out. Julian truly had done his best, trying not to think about the disgust he felt inside him each time he touched the younger French, trying to focus on the appeasing feelings that emanated from these ministrations each time, feelings that came straight from their bond. He felt horrible for being with someone who was not even legal yet, and the day Andrea eventually turned eighteen was one of the most soothing ones to Julian. At least now he would not feel like a paedophile when he would kiss him, when his body would react to his in a more physical way. He had refused to touch him further as long as he had still been underage despite Andrea’s clear interest in taking their relationship further.

    Despite trying his best he knew that he was not as great as he wanted to be. He knew that sometimes he was a bit rough with his soul mate, but Andrea never really complained so he kept behaving that way. Eventually Valentine’s Day had come, and they had spent the night together once the match against Barcelona had been over. They had had dinner together in a fancy restaurant and then gone back to his flat. Their first time together had been both weird and pleasurable. Julian had been torn apart between his longing for something else and the mind-blowing experience it had been on a physical approach. He had not known what he had been supposed to do afterwards; he did not know if he was supposed to cuddle with Andrea or just lay on his part of the bed. His inner feelings had taken over and so he had opted for the second possibility.

    Today he knew he should have gone for the first possibility.

    The weeks following this evening had been tensed on Andrea’s part and Julian had immediately known something had changed because of this night. He had tried to get to know what was wrong, he had even tried even harder to be a ‘good’ soul mate to him, trying to grab his hand more often and touch him, giving him small ministrations, but the young French simply did not go back to how they used to be, doing his best to avoid him and even blocking him out of his mind during the few training sessions they had had together. Julian knew it was his fault, he felt it, something he had done must have upset him but he simply did not know what.

    When he had learnt Andrea would come with them to the League Cup final, he had known about their coach's intention to make him do his debut.

Unai had told him himself, asking him to use their bond on the pitch again, as they had used to before during training. They wanted to win this Cup and having such an advantage was too good to let it go to waste. And so the German tried to talk to his soul mate about it. He had never imagined that the young French player would get that angry at words at training on Wednesday, and when Andrea eventually opened his mind up to him… Julian had never felt as bad as he felt in this moment.

Andrea had shown him everything, had shared all his feeling, all his rejection, all his despair; how much Julian had wretched him, had broken everything inside him. The shame and self-disgust he had felt in this moment had never been that strong, not even when he had realised that his soul mate was a man. The idea that he had hurt someone so much, that he had hurt Andrea, his soul mate, so much made him nauseous straight away. He suddenly realised that his ‘trying’ to be a ‘good’ soul mate had actually been none of it and that he had behaved like the biggest moron ever.

    He had felt his own heart break when he had felt the anger that emanated from these feeling. The German player felt tears prickle in his eyes at the acknowledgement that he surely had destroyed the most beautiful thing that could have happened to him. After looking at him one last hateful time, he had let his soul mate leave the training ground. This day he had stayed late after training, trying to tire himself out so that he would eventually be able to forget about the ache in his chest. He could not see any solution for them to get back together normally. He had been too blinded by his struggles to accept the idea of Andrea being a man to realise that he had destroyed the younger one in the process.

    The day after had been awkward at training. Some of them had witnessed the moment when Andrea had let him see the truth, and it had been evident that it was Julian’s fault, even without knowing the details. Even though they had clearly tried to not to take side as it was none of their business, the German knew that they knew and it was enough for him to feel ashamed. Andrea was like the baby of the team; they all tried to protect the youngsters, considering them like younger brothers and now they had all knew he was the cause for the young French’s miserable state.

    He watched as Edinson scored a fourth goal by the last minutes of the match and shortly after the referee blew his whistle, signalling the end of the match. They had won the Cup and even though he should feel delighted, Julian’s joy was dampened by all that had happened. He saw Andrea being brought back on the pitch for the small award ceremony and to receive his miniature of the trophy, but his eyes were lost, a clear sign of his concussion. A doctor was following him around, making sure that he was alright as the team celebrated. The German longed to go and take him in his arms, but he could not, the younger one would surely push him away.

    From what he had been explained when he had asked, they had not taken him to the hospital yet because he had asked to there for the celebration but they would take him straight away as soon as the team’s pictures were taken.

    Julian would have liked to accompany him there and he nearly did when he saw him leave the pitch before they did to head to the closest hospital, but his reason prevented him to do so.  Andrea would not want him there, he was sure of that.

    The travel back to Paris was joyful in the plane and in the bus. Everyone was celebrating their victory, and Julian tried to do so too, but his worry for his soul mate was evident.

    Now lying alone in his bed in his flat in Paris, he felt tears gather in his eyes as he thought about everything that had happened, about how he had messed them up. Andrea was his soul mate and despite his struggle to accept him as that, Julian knew that he loved him deeply even if the younger one thought otherwise.

    He had buried these feelings down until now, pushing them away behind his shame, doing his best not to acknowledge them. But now he did. Now he knew that he loved Andrea, and the idea that he might have destroyed their chances of being together one day mortified him. He could not imagine how Andrea could ever forgive him all that he had put him through. Julian hated himself, and even saying this was an understatement for how he felt right now. If he had not been such a moron then he might still be in Lyon, sitting beside Andrea as they got the results on how bad his concussion was or even be there as he was preparing himself to get surgery on his broken nose. But he had messed everything up, and now he could not blame anyone else than him for losing the best thing that had happened to his life; because he was sure of it, there was no way for them to be back together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you all noticed this definitely is not an Happy Ending. At first I had intended it to be, but as I was writing this last part I could not help but think this would seem botched and incomplete, and so I have decided to do a sequel to this story with hopefully a happy ending for this two.  
> You surely have understood why i had to change the pont of view, I could never have explained such things about Julian without doing so, and I hope that now you see that they both have flaws.  
> You must know me by now, sometimes it can take me quite a few weeks to write a part or a chapter, but I’ll try post the sequel as soon as possible :)  
> Much of love,  
> Alika
> 
> PS: For the ones reading my Somki story, I’m halfway through the next chapter so soon enough you should be able to read a new update (hopefully! because you know that i'm a slow writer XD)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, feel free to give me your opinion on it, I would love it :) Whether it be positive or negative as long as it's constructive :)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a fiction about real people. I do not own the players mentioned and as much as I know none of the things described here ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


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